Here was a new light thrown upon the mystery or mysteries by which he felt himself surrounded on all hands.

The strange guest in the Mitre inn, was then, beyond question, the very individual alluded to in the anonymous letter.

The baronet's face had, in the scowl of wrath, got black, as mine host was speaking.

This expression, however, gradually diminished in the darkness of that wrathful shadow which lay over it.

After a severe internal struggle with his tremendous passions, he at length seemed to cool down.